by Kelly Conaboy

Maybe you’ve had this experience: You throw a bay leaf into a broth, and it doesn’t do anything. Then you throw the rest of the bay leaves you bought into the broth, too, because you only bought them for this, and you’ll be damned if you don’t taste a bay leaf, and they don’t do anything, either. What could be the cause of this? I’ll tell you. Bay leaves are bullshit.

What does a bay leaf taste like? Nothing. What does a bay leaf smell like? Nothing. What does a bay leaf look like? A leaf. How does a bay leaf behave? It behaves as a leaf would, if you took a leaf from the tree outside of your apartment building and put it into your soup. People say, “Boil a bay leaf in some water and then taste the water if you want to know what a bay leaf tastes like.”

No.

In search of confirmation, as well as freedom to ignore the bay leaf portion of future recipes I might encounter, I reached out to a number of chefs and asked them, “Are bay leaves bullshit?”

Chef Anna Klinger, of Park Slope’s Al Di La, said: “I like them and use quite a bit.”

Anna Klinger and I are not technically friends so I do not take this lie personally, and I appreciate the way she did not explicitly state on record that bay leaves are not bullshit. Sneaky.

Chef Matty Bennett, of the Lower East Side’s The Lucky Bee, said: “People don’t realize the flavour they add. Stale bay leaves that sit in your cupboard for months aren’t gonna help you at all. If you can find fresh bay leaves that’s the way to go!”

Huh. Fresh bay leaves are the way to go where, I wonder. An empty place? A concrete room that you thought was empty until you notice a couple sharp pieces of scrap metal in the corner and then you think, wait a second — what kind of room is this?

John Connolly, general manager of Williamsburg’s Marlow & Sons and Diner, said: “Fresh bay leaves are legit. And you can quote me on that.” And then he said, “Even the dried stuff isn’t bad as long as it isn’t too old. It gets stale.”

John. Yeah right!

Chef Joseph Brancaccio, of Windsor Terrace’s Brancaccio’s, said: “Sorry, Kelly, they’re not bullshit. Chicken soup, rice pilaf. I watched my grandmother use them. Taste the difference by cutting one in half in your cooking. Kale, on the other hand, is bullshit.”

I love Joe’s sandwiches, but it is unsettling to find out that he would lie about bay leaves with such ease to me, a valued customer.

A PR rep for Harlem’s The Cecil said: “The chef uses them in his brines and stocks along with curry leaves. Do you want more info or are you looking for a chef who also thinks they’re bullshit?”

I’m simply looking for a chef who is willing to be honest with me about bay leaves.

Chef Emily Elsen, of Gowanus pie shop Four & Twenty Blackbirds, said: “I personally like bay leaves — and particularly when stewing beans, meats, etc. They add an earthy, bitter note that is distinct. I prefer to use fresh foraged bay leaves when I can get them, which have a stronger, bolder flavor and are unique.”

You know what else has an earthy, bitter note? Lies — to someone who could have potentially been your friend! — about bay leaves.

Chef Anthony Bourdain, some famous chef, said: “Count me in the ‘yes’ team. I DO use bay leaves. And yes, they are important. Particularly for cream sauces and poaching liquid (court bouillons) for fish. I can understand how some would feel they get lost in more forceful dishes like beef stew — but I think they add something. Color me old school.”

I’ll certainly color Anthony Bourdain one thing: a liar.

Chef Sohui Kim, of Gowanus’s Insa, said: “It’s easy to think that bay leaves might be bullshit. It’s usually dried, brittle, and smelling in its form doesn’t impress. But I do think that it is a potent form of aromatic, very necessary for soups stews and braises. Much like using one piece of anchovy in a pasta sauce, undetectable to to eye or even to the taste buds but packs a real je ne sais quoi, umami punch. In long slow cooking forms, I firmly believe in the power of the bay leaf. Storage is important so that it keeps its flavor. I always keep fresh ones in the refrigerator or dried ones in the freezer.”

I appreciate Sohui’s acknowledgment that it’s easy to think bay leaves might be bullshit. It’s easy to think a lot of things that are plainly true, even if a number of chefs are attempting to gaslight the public about them, as if we are unable to draw accurate conclusions from our experiences.

Chef Joey Baldino, of Collingswood, NJ’s Zeppoli, said: “For southern Mediterranean cooking I think the bay leave are great. They give a depth of flavor that you can’t get with any other herbs especially in fish dishes …I use bay leaves in almost everything I cook with here at Zeppoli. I prefer the fresh but dried are just as good!!! Also, if you put a bay leaf in your homemade breadcrumbs it will help them last longer, an old Sicilian lady showed me that trick and works great.”

I’m not making homemade breadcrumbs, Joey!!!!! You liar!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chef Paul Giannone, of Greenpoint’s Paulie Gee’s, said: “I don’t have an opinion nor do I know much about bay leaves, but unless they eat them I’m sure bulls don’t shit them.”

I truly do not have time for jokes.

Chef Kate Jacoby, of Philadephia’s Vedge, said: “We definitely use bay leaves here at Vedge and at our other restaurant V Street. I’ve worked with them a little bit in pastry. Funny story, we had a person prepping a kaffir lime ice cream base, and they mistakenly used bay leaves. It was actually pretty tasty. But the bulk of our bay leaves are used in savory preparations.”

My impression of the person prepping the ice cream base: “Dunno why Kate wants this leaf in here…”

Chef Rich Landau, Chef Kate Jacoby’s husband who is also of Vedge, said: “Sorry, but bullshit they are not — in my opinion. I truly love bay leaves, they are irreplaceable in stocks as they lend a deeper, savory, herbal element that fresh herbs don’t. When simmered in a tomato sauce they have a bright green citrusy note that lightens everything up and adds dimension. One rule though, and this is where most people go wrong, they must be fresh. Because dry bay leaf is indeed bullshit.”

Wow, an explosive admission from Kate’s husband Rich: “…bay leaf is…bullshit.”

Josh Richards, General Manager at the East Village’s 00 + Co, said: “HAHA, wow! What a question! I personally seem to think that they impart a lot to a dish when there’s enough liquid in the dish, but maybe I’m just crazy. I’ll pass your question along to our Chef de Cuisine and see if I can’t get you an answer from him. Good luck on your bay leaf crusade!”

Thanks, Josh!

Chef Hannah Lyons, of Williamsburg’s St. Anselm, said: “Yes! Bay leaves are not bullshit!! Heat up a cup of water with bay leaves and compare the taste to a cup of water without bay leaves. The difference in flavor is bay leaves.”

Haha. Based on her response I enjoy Hannah as a person but I worry about entering into friendship with a liar.

Chef Matthew D’Ambrosio, of the Upper East Side’s Amali, said: “Bay leaves are a great under-utilized spice. It’s the primary ingredient in the cure we use here and at Amali Mou, we love laurel. Anything but bullshit! It has a very rich history in culinary tradition… And ceremonies, i.e. Ancient Rome and Greece… I could not imagine not having bay leaves to cook with.”

Here’s how I imagine it. You have a pot of soup on the stove and you go to your spice area and you think, “Man, I’m glad this area isn’t cluttered up with any shitty leaves. Shitty stupid garbage leaves. Little waste of money green things that make you feel crazy. Like leaves from a tree outside, and you throw them in for no reason. Thank god!”

Chef Ryan Angulo, of Carroll Gardens’ Buttermilk Channel, said: “Bay leaves. I’ve had people bring this up before when a chef throws one bayleaf into a stock pot that could fit a horse. They have a a fairly strong flavor so too many in a stock or sauce can really be overpowering and disgusting, like brewing strong tea. One or two add something subtle that you might not be able to pick when they are in a recipe but might be the ingredient that makes you think‘something’s missing’ when omitted.

“Most people don’t realize it is also used ground in spice mixes. Old Bay wouldn’t be Old Bay without bay leaf.

“Those are my thoughts. I would have to say ‘no’ on the bullshit. It’s not like the cork thrown in when cooking octopus.”

“It’s not like the cooork thrown in when cooooking octopuuuus.” — me mocking Ryan rudely but pretty much he deserves it.

Chef Rachael Polhill, of Greenwich Village’s Dante, said: “I think it’s bullshit to put one piece in every stock, sauce or braise and think that makes all the difference, we as chefs do it almost automatically. But as a flavour in their own right I think it’s amazing. It’s truly unique not spicy, but fragrant almost floral and has great versatility for sweet and savory applications.”

UGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Chef Claire Welle, of Clinton Hill’s Tilda All Day, said: “This is a question with a few answers.

“Let me start with, if you’re not searching out the best products that are available to you as a cook, then you’re already setting yourself up for failure. The bay leaves sitting in your spice cabinet from 1994 are going to give fresh bay leaves a bad rap. There are too many wonderful purveyors of fresh herbs to continue to use mainstream dried products.

“Second, flavors like bay leaves are rooted deep in memories and tradition. Most commonly used in soups, sauces and stocks they are tied to Sunday dinners and long awaited feasts. They are the foundation of a great sauce, and can help highlight base flavors. Being from Maryland, bay leaf is an integral part of our regional cooking.

“In short, stop using bad products and you’ll realize that every ingredient brings something to a dish. Hope that helps.”

UUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Photo by Lindsey Turner

Every Monday I’m like, “Ugh, the new week, let’s just keep our heads down and quietly try to get through it,” and every Friday I’m like, “Thank God, the week is ending, let’s just keep our heads down and quietly try to get out of it,” and then the two days off (really just one day if you factor in exactly how much of those 48 hours Sunday dread eats away) barrel by and you’re back here hoping I have something better to tell you than, “Ugh, the new week, let’s just keep our heads down and quietly try to get through it.” (You’re putting A LOT OF PRESSURE ON ME, and I’m not sure it’s fair.) But what’s the point of it all? What are we doing to ourselves with this five-days-of-agony/two-days-of-slightly-less-agony wheel we find ourselves running? How could it possibly be worth it? I don’t know. I can’t think of a solution. Better minds than mine have tried and failed. All I can tell you is this: Spring is coming. Spring is so close you can almost feel it on your skin when you walk out in the air. Let’s just get to spring and then we’ll figure it out together, okay? Until then keep your heads down and quietly try to get through it. We’ll let Mitski do our shouting for us.

★★ The sun laid a chilly shine over the pavement to the east. A dog stood in a doggy coat, its bare hind legs trembling. Six blocks to the pre-K and six blocks back was enough to make the cold subcutaneous. In the West 60s it was possible to stay bareheaded but when the wind blew through the treeless stretch of cross street downtown, the hood had to come up. Clouds halfway formed, slowly, to whiten the early afternoon sky. Steadily and uninterestingly the white became gray, then gray streaked with darker gray. A woman in a short fur poncho stepped out into Broadway and raised an arm and with it the hemline, hailing a cab.

★★★ An elephant herd of purple cumulus marched away to the northwest. On the last rise toward the pre-K school, the wind picked up something lightweight but not tiny — something dry dropped by a tree, maybe — and blew it straight to the back of the throat, to be dislodged only by violent gagging and coughing. The sky was a clear but not remote blue; a dazzling faint blue haze dissolved down from it into the landscape. A little space of warmth floated just above the bottom of the Columbus Circle exit stairs, where the reflected sun reached but the wind did not. A celebrity strolled past the luxury hotel entrance, coatless and at ease in a blue sport coat, sunglasses, and suede shoes. People snapped surreptitious photos of his broad back. A woman with her hair in a dancer’s bun hurried past, her athletic pants rattling and snapping in the breeze. The sunset sky was almost clear, save for purple and pink streaks running just along the top of the drab apartment slab in the west.

by Brendan O’Connor

On Tuesday, the Appellate Division of New York State’s Supreme Court ruled that Attorney General Eric Schneiderman’s suit against Donald Trump, a New York real estate developer and the frontrunner for the Republican presidential nomination, and the institution formerly known as “Trump University” could proceed, dismissing arguments from Trump’s lawyers that the statute of limitations for the attorney general’s claim had run out. “We look forward to demonstrating in a court of law that Donald Trump and his sham for-profit college defrauded more than 5,000 consumers out of millions of dollars,” Schneiderman said in a statement.

Trump University, incorporated as a limited liability corporation in 2004 and headquartered at 40 Wall Street (known as the Trump Building), claimed to offer students the opportunity to learn the secrets of real-estate investment from its namesake’s “handpicked experts.” One advertisement, inviting prospective students to a free, ninety-minute seminar, attributed a quote to Trump: “I can turn anyone into a successful real estate investor, including you.” A direct mail solicitation proclaimed, “In just 90 minutes, my hand-picked instructors will share my techniques, which took my entire career to develop.” It continued, “Then just copy exactly what I’ve done and get rich.” By 2013, however — a few years after “Trump University” had changed its name to the “Trump Entrepreneur Initiative” — the New York attorney general filed a lawsuit against Trump, claiming that the free seminar was nothing more than a “bait and switch.” Trump University, Schneiderman said, had defrauded hundreds of New Yorkers and thousands of Americans of some $40 million.

According to court documents, the New York State Department of Education sent Trump, Trump University, and University president Michael Sexton letters as early as May 27th, 2005, notifying them that they were violating the state’s education laws by using the word “university” without actually having a university charter (and also because they were not actually licensed to teach students). An SED official informed Sexton that they could solve this problem by moving the business organization outside of New York, and not holding any more physical seminars or classes in the state. In email correspondence, Sexton told the official that Trump University would comply with regulations, merging the New York LLC with one incorporated in Delaware, but they never did. In a deposition, Sexton described this as “an oversight,” and something that he and Trump “forgot” about.

In March 2010, the SED sent Trump University another letter demanding its compliance, and in May, five years after the first letter, Trump University changed its name to the Trump Entrepreneur Initiative. The attorney general claims that the organization continued to operate out of 40 Wall Street (“one of the few buildings in Manhattan that Trump actually owns,” Vanity Fair quipped) during this time, and that it conducted “at least fifty live programs in New York between 2006 and 2011” even though it did not have a license to do so.

Despite having had “significant involvement with both the operation and overall business strategy of Trump University,” according to a response to one set of government interrogatories, Donald Trump himself rarely, if ever, made in-person appearances at any of the Trump University events. In a video that played during the free seminar, however, he invited students to invest more fully in his program, “We’re going to have professors that are absolutely terrific — terrific people, terrific brains, successful, the best.” In fact, he made it kind of a dare: “Honestly, if you don’t learn from [the instructors], if you don’t learn from me, if you don’t learn from the people that we’re going to be putting forward, and these are all people that are handpicked by me, then you’re just not going to make it in terms of the world of success.” However, the attorney general argues, those people were not handpicked by Trump at all. Indeed, in response to another interrogatory, Trump’s lawyers conceded that he “may not have vetted every mentor, instructor and speaker, but he did convey his thoughts and insight into the types of people he wanted teaching the course and those insights and ideas were followed by other individuals responsible for selecting the teachers.”

The phony lawsuit against Trump U could have been easily settled by me but I want to go to court. 98% approval rating by students. Easy win

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) March 3, 2016

The ninety-minute seminar, it turned out, was actually just an upsell for another seminar, this one three days long, which cost $1,495, and which would supposedly constitute “the last real estate education you will ever need for the rest of your life.” That is excepting, of course, the three “Trump Elite Packages” that followed: the $9,995 Bronze Elite program; the $19,495 Silver Elite program; and the $34,995 Gold Elite program. If prospective students expressed concern about being able to afford the more expensive programs, the attorney general alleges, they were encouraged to call their banks to request an increase of their credit cards’ borrowing limits. Instructors, some of whom were presented as “Donald Trump’s personal real estate coaches,” frequently insinuated that Trump himself was likely to make an appearance during the three-day seminar. Instead, students got the chance to take a photograph with a life-size cutout photo of the billionaire developer. Students were also told that the “university” was a philanthropic endeavor, but according to the AG, Trump made about $5 million from Trump University.

Even by Donald Trump’s fluctuating standards, this is not very much money: In 2012, 40 Wall Street, the landmarked building Trump University was headquartered in, was valued at around $400 million. Built in 1930, 40 Wall Street — then known as the Bank of Manhattan Building — briefly held the title of “world’s tallest building” before it was surpassed by the Chrysler Building uptown. In 1981, the building was secretly purchased by Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos, a dictator and kleptocrat, who, with his wife, made major investments in several Manhattan buildings, through the developers Joseph and Ralph Bernstein, using money pilfered from the nation’s treasury. According to the New York Times, after Marcos was deposed and the Philippine government froze his assets, the federal government charged him with defrauding American financial institutions of ‘’more than $165 million in connection with the purchase and refinancing’’ of his four Manhattan buildings. The buildings would eventually be sold at auction, and the 70-year leasehold on 40 Wall Street went for a paltry $77 million.

The troubled building, just across the street from the New York Stock Exchange, continued to change hands, however, for increasingly smaller sums of money, until Donald Trump purchased it in 1995 for “a price estimated at less than $8 million,” the Times reported. According to the Trump Organization website, “After years of vacancy, Donald J. Trump purchased the property, invested more than $200 million in restorations, and brought it to the peak of its original grandeur. The high profile tenants that occupy the Trump building represent the pinnacle of New York City in their international prestige and power.” The Trump Building “towers over the city as a reminder of New York’s global import.”

But Trump is not the player in New York City real estate he may once have been: His holdings, which the Times describes as “modest,” include a garage below Trump Plaza. (“It’s a very successful garage,” he said.) In fact, he doesn’t even own 40 Wall Street: He controls the long-term lease on the building, which ends in 2059, and for which he paid either $1 million or $10 million, depending on whom you ask. The land on which the Trump Building sits is owned by an investor group led by a German shipping family, the Hinnenbergs, who purchased the lot in 1982. How’s that for a reminder of New York’s global import?

Photo by sukwendo

by Mark Bibbins, Editor

Death & Co.

The dead bell, the dead bell
Every Christ a clap of bad behaviour,
Ballsy as Blake, a birthmark
Of meat, a red frill of privilege.

Baby eaters all, a sweet girl
In a white cage. Such a useful future
Looming, the men at the door of thirteen
Waiting for the right moment.

I haven’t felt this way in years. I have been
A sheep in wolf’s clothing, eating
At the trough, supping on fine bones.
They have treated me like just another,

And I have repaid their kind company
By acknowledging their appetite for youth,
Not getting that, like the animals of the forest,
For men, not calling each other out is

Their code of honour — but I am born
Of a different forest, a different code.
Ungrateful woman, I can apparently
Choke on my bad faith, my frost
Flower, while my men ring their manly hours

And count their flock, for a man who fails
To high-five, is a man shunned, a man
That might as well be a woman. Oh my men,
I have been up all night, bouncing on camels
Into corridors telling of a future

With a different honour code. Gentlemen,
I suggest you ride the night with two mouths
Suckling your breasts. Bend your boys to your babies,
Bid them put their efforts into filtration systems
And ways to keep toddlers safe.

Then on Sunday, take
Your two breasts and toss
Them like doves into
Summer. Somebody’s done for

Or something. Call it hunger.
Call it unconsciousness.
Show it the door, show
It the door.

Sina Queyras lives in Montreal. My Ariel will be published by Coach House Books in 2017.

You will find more poems here. You may contact the editor at poems@theawl.com.

I sort of stopped keeping track of time in 2007 or so, which is probably why whenever I look in the mirror lately I’m like, “Holy fuck, when did I get this old?” But it also explains why every time someone talks to me about Yeasayer my brain goes immediately to its “new bands” folder for information. Imagine how surprised I was to find out they’re coming up on ten years together as an act. That’s right! A decade! Newer bands have gotten together, broken up and reformed in that time! Oh my God, I’ve wasted the last ten years and now I have nothing to show for it, not even memories, what have I done with my life? Sorry, I got sidetracked there. What I meant to say was, hey, new Yeasayer out soon! Enjoy!

★★★★ The morning was bright and tolerable. The kids from the school shivered coatless for an actual, if false, fire alarm, as the fire trucks came around the block. All up and down the train car people were coughing or sneezing. Spray-painted utility markings on the Fifth Avenue pavement were richly colored and salient to the untrained eye. Clouds slatted like a ribcage raced overhead in the golden late light. What seemed to be the smell of wood smoke was carried on the pushy night breeze.